The Fall and Remembrance
by Artemisthe2
Summary: Carthage looks back as his life is about to end.


**This is um, my Carthage OC and just, I don't know. I'm sorry if there are any historical inaccuracies...I tried to research as much as I could.**

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**He can hear them outside these walls. The Romans, eager to shed blood, to destroy his people, his lands, everything. Everything that keeps the heart in his chest beating wildly in anticipation of what is going to happen to him.

He knows, and Rome knows, that soon, he will cease to exist but in name only. Just another reminder of the fact that entities like them really can die. Knowing his doom makes it no less frightening. Without paying much attention to it, his breath quickens and even though he is sitting there, away from the battle going on beyond his walls, he can feel it all too well. Each death hurts him, makes his breath sharp, but he is determined to look proud and regal as he waits for the Roman Empire to barge in like the uncouth, brash idiot he is.

And he fails to disappoint. Soon there stands Rome, breathing hard with his armor splashed with blood. _The blood of his people_, Carthage thinks to himself, his steady gaze turning into a glare. He can tell Rome has suffered some losses at Carthage's people's hands and a wave of pride washes over him before despair has him in its tight grip again.

No matter what he does at this point, he cannot prevent his own impending death. The thought stays in his mind as he sits there, eyes locked with Rome's gold eyes that seem so impassive.

There is nothing left to say, but Rome opens his mouth to speak anyway.

"_Carthago delenda est._" Carthage must be destroyed. Those three words make Carthage's lips curl back in a snarl.

The same words that were on the lips of so many Roman citizens and soldiers. The words spoken so many times by Cato, in his speeches. It outrages Carthage so much that one man could decide his fate so easily and without an ounce of remorse. To declare that he should be destroyed without even thinking about the individual lives of his people seems so heartless.

While Carthage is lost in his thoughts, Rome points his blade at him. He notices the sword shaking, but for what reason? Rome knows he won't fight back like his people are.

Carthage looks off to the side, closing his eyes and losing himself to the noises of the chaotic fighting and screaming outside.

And he thinks back to Hannibal, his brilliant Hannibal.

_"I entrust this war to you, Hannibal."_

_The Carthaginian general smiled back stoically, radiating confidence from his very stance. Carthage couldn't help but trust this man, and hope that perhaps he could get his vengeance against Rome once and for all._

_The country was proud upon hearing of Hannibal's victories. His people were happy. Hannibal seemed like the great person he had been waiting for._

_The hope was crushed so easily though. The stinging pain he felt in his chest was only too good a proof for that. Rome couldn't win over Hannibal, so he went to attack Carthage himself, knowing that it was left defenseless._

_Carthage cursed Hannibal for his ignorance. And Hannibal's ingenuity had run out. He lost._

The Battle of Zama.

Carthage dislikes thinking of it and of the man who had won it.

_Scipio Africanus_. The name still makes his blood run cold with dread and hot with hate. The one who conquered Africa was what they named him.

The Battle of Zama. If he had won it, it would be him, instead of Rome, as the most powerful empire in the Mediterranean. The one at the sharp end of the blade would be Rome, if Carthage had decided to do the monstrous deed of killing him.

He had never loved fighting as much as the younger man in front of him. Carthage would much rather live a peaceful life full of prosperity, which was why he wanted control of Sicily, the little child who was wondering why everyone wanted him.

Years later, one of Rome's citizens will try and explain their rivalry in the _Aeneid_ with the prediction of a dying queen. A romanticized idea, of course.

"Look at me!" Rome's gruff and aggravated voice brings him back again. Carthage turns his head slowly, casting a cool gaze over Rome. He refuses to acknowledge the sword at his throat, even if he has resigned himself to his inescapable fate.

The look in Rome's eyes makes Carthage's own eyes wide, shock making his body rigid. A spark of regret buried under layers and layers of determination are present in the other's eyes however they both know that this can not be averted.

A noise comes from outside and he can understand what is happening all too well. He's being burned; he can feel the searing pain even as the glow from the fires blazes into the little house. It takes all he can not to scream as he clutches at his skin. He glances up at Rome to plead for him to end this already. The empire looks stricken, and the expression on his face seems to be asking of Carthage to somehow convince him not to end his life.

If he had only known of the things he would know only to lose in these horrid wars, he would've stopped himself.

Iberia, with her feminine beauty and her gentle, soothing voice, seemed hard to forget, if only he could forget. He had only gone to her to gain an ally, a source of wealth, but when he had heard that Rome wanted her at the end of that second war, he couldn't bear that thought of losing her and the little son they had had together, Hispania.

Movement from Rome immediately draws his attention. That sword, battle-worn and already bloody from who knows which Carthaginian soldiers, raises to prepare for the final strike.

_Make it painless_, Carthage hopes, but he knows Rome is not a mind-reader.

He wishes he had something witty to say to Rome, something that will cause the other man to feel unease long after Carthage is gone, but his voice has run dry. Pain seems to be the only thing occupying his mind.

He will not beg, he will not run, he will not let Rome have his fun and chase him like some helpless prey. He will stay there and face his death boldly.

And he does. The sword falls, his life ends, and there is nothing left for him.

Nothing except eternal rest.

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**I'm not entirely sure how this turned out**.** Ehhhhh...**


End file.
